


Plant Food

by seashadows



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: Dethklok is the best for yelling at plants, Don't copy to another site, Fluff, Good Omens Lockdown, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:09:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24185677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seashadows/pseuds/seashadows
Summary: Homegrown plant discipline was more nutritious than the alternative, but sometimes Crowley just had to farm it out to someone else.That was where Dethklok came in.(Aziraphale rings, and Crowley fills him in on his current activities.)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 45
Collections: MoFu Birthdays





	Plant Food

**Author's Note:**

  * For [atmilliways](https://archiveofourown.org/users/atmilliways/gifts).



> For atmilliways, on the occasion of her birthday. Happy birthday dethday!

Homegrown plant discipline was more nutritious than the alternative, but sometimes Crowley just had to farm it out to someone else.

That was where Dethklok came in.

He hummed as he stuck his music player in its speaker and snapped his fingers to turn it on. The last rerun of Golden Girls had ended with him yelling at the screen, so it was a good thing he had the first Dethalbum greatest-hits collection to pick up the slack while he rested his voice. “Lucky you,” he told the plants, and turned up the volume. “You get someone who doesn’t give a shit about your growth today. Enjoy the break.”

Nathan Explosion’s death-metal growl rang in his ears and filled up the plant room. Crowley picked up the plant mister and set to work. ‘Briefcase Full of Guts’ was one of his favorite songs, so whenever he wanted it to show up on shuffle, it did. He whistled along with the bass line and moved slowly from one plant to another, making sure each was adequately misted.

Honestly, Dethklok made up most of his hypothetical bucket list in case Aziraphale ever got tired of him, with the possible exception of Murderface. That and climbing a mountain in bare feet, but – Crowley snickered – Nathan Explosion was pretty much a mountain in and of himself.

Just as ‘Better Metal Snake’ came on, Crowley heard his mobile ring somewhere in the flat. He snapped the music off and summoned his phone to hover next to his ear. “Aziraphale, is that you again?”

“Yes!” Aziraphale’s delighted voice filled the space around him. Crowley smiled and watered another plant. “I’ve found another hobby that I just had to tell you about.”

“What’s that, angel?”

“Embroidery,” Aziraphale said.

“Wait, _what?_ ”

He could practically hear Aziraphale’s distressed wiggle through the phone line. “Oh, dear, did I startle you? It’s only – I was reading a crafting book I didn’t remember I had, and it had the loveliest patterns in it.”

“No, it’s not the fact that it’s embroidery,” Crowley said. “I’ve tried it before.” He had in fact burned through a few pieces of fabric when he pricked himself, but Aziraphale was already privy to that particular fact about demon blood. “I just didn’t think you had the patience for it. You make a lot of mistakes when you’re a beginner.”

“Then I’ll either live with the mistakes or learn to improve on them, depending on how long this quarantine lasts,” said Aziraphale. “But enough about me. How are you?”

“Doing fine.”

Aziraphale paused. “Are you sure? Your voice sounds _dreadful_ , Crowley. You haven’t…come down with something, haven’t you?”

Crowley gulped, and hastened to answer. “God, no,” he said. “Not that. I might’ve been a little too aggressive at the television yesterday when I was watching Golden Girls.”

“Shouting at fictional characters again, you mean,” Aziraphale said. “That’s exceptionally funny, my dear, but whatever are you going to do about your plants when it’s time to tend them?”

“Got that taken care of,” said Crowley, and waited for Aziraphale to take the hint.

A groan on the other end told him that Aziraphale’s brain had risen to the occasion again. “You’re playing that dreadful screamo music again, aren’t you? Oh, Crowley.”

Now it was Crowley’s turn to groan. “Dethklok isn’t ‘screamo,’ angel. That’s something else.” Aziraphale was going to discorporate him out of sheer bafflement one of these days. “I mean, they do scream a lot.”

“Yes, well,” Aziraphale huffed, “to each their own, I suppose.” He took an audible sip of something. Tea, probably; he didn’t drink much alcohol on his own. Crowley had always found that flattering. “Were you busy when I rang?”

“Got the phone next to my ear, don’t worry,” said Crowley, and brandished the plant mister again to attack a decorative cabbage. He didn’t know if they typically grew indoors, and he didn’t care, because this one did. “Anything you wanted to talk about, angel?”

“Oh, no, not particularly. I just wanted to hear your voice. And tell you about the embroidery.”

Crowley smiled. “Sure. I like hearing yours, too.”

“Mm. Well, I’ll call you again sometime soon. If you’re napping, I’ll leave a message, shall I?”

“Sure,” Crowley told him. “Hope you have a good time with the embroidery. Try not to stab yourself.”

“I’ll do my level best,” said Aziraphale, and ended the call.

Crowley grinned at his phone, then miracled it back to his bedroom and snapped his fingers at the speakers. As ‘Murmaider’ blasted into whatever ears the plants might have, he didn’t stop himself from tapping his feet to the beat. His already-good day had just gotten even better.


End file.
